We began talking. Then spending time together. Coffee after meetings. Long conversations that didn’t require explanation.

Eventually, we built a life together.

It was a good life.

We shared simple things—our pets, bike rides along Minto Island, and travel when we could manage it. I continued supporting my Tahoe clients while connecting with a startup in Seattle, helping bring early online systems to the vacation rental industry.

I could work remotely.

We were stable. Comfortable.

For a long time, that was enough.

But something began to feel familiar.

The Willamette Valley is beautiful—but also gray. Wet. Overcast for long stretches of the year.

And over time, that began to wear on us.

Life was fine.

But it no longer felt fully alive.

We began visiting Central Oregon.

Bend. The high desert. Open space. Sunlight.

Something shifted.

It reminded me of a feeling I had known before.

Ali started looking at properties.

One stood out—a modest home on several acres in Crooked River Ranch, set in a dramatic canyon. Smaller. Simpler.

But extraordinary.

There was one problem.

We didn’t know if I could work there.

Reliable internet—essential for my job—was uncertain at best. No one could give us a clear answer.

It was a familiar kind of uncertainty.

We had a choice.

Stay where life was predictable.

Or take the risk again.

We chose to move.